Reviving the Past
by melz the great
Summary: Someone is plotting to kill all of the Chagny's. When Raoul disappears, Christine must forget her fears and protect herself and her daughter. But who would want to harm them? And who can Christine turn to for help? EC, some RC
1. 14 years later

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera….or anything. Which really sucks, because if I did that would be really cool and I'd probably be rich and I could think of myself as very smart and….well anyway I don't own anything. Except Emiliee…she's mine. **

The air was crisp, the sun just awaking from its nightly slumber. The young birds began singing gaily in the gentle trees branches. Slowly the rays of sunlight began crashing through the lush, emerald foliage. It was a beautiful morning, Still and Serene. The summer months were just being born.

Christine de Chagny sat facing her mirror, her reflection smiling back at her. Today was their anniversary. After applying just a dab more makeup she stood and proceeded down into the Courtyard.

Christine liked her life with Raoul. They lived in nice houses, had plenty of money and she had been blessed with the most beautiful daughter. It had been 14 years since the affair at the Opera House and Christine was pretty good at not thinking about it. But sometimes at night, or when she was confined to her own thoughts, a pang of loss or misery overwhelmed her. It was unbearable in those rare moments. Her heart ached and felt like it was going to crack open. She didn't quite know the reason…Raoul had it engraved in her head that she felt that way merely because the Opera House had been burned down and it was the place she grew up in. But something told her that there was far more to it then that.

Christine's thoughts often strayed to the subject of… _him_. How could they not? It had been such a significant part of her life. She could never forget his face, his voice, his teachings, his actions. She didn't love him though. He was a murderer and would have killed Raoul. But Christine couldn't forget those eyes. Eyes that you could get lost in, totally consumed within them. What Christine missed most of all was her Angel of Music. Teaching and nurturing her, no killings, no murder, no sadness. She missed when his soul purpose was just to coach her voice so she could reach her full potential. But he stirred something inside of her that no one else ever could.

Christine sighed and entered the kitchen. Her daughter, Emiliee glanced up from the table and then resumed staring at it. She and Christine were total opposites. Not to mention Emilee was now entering her life as a…teenager, which scared both Christine and Raoul alike.

"Good morning Emiliee" Christine said calmly smiling down at her daughter.

Emiliee sighed and let out a small groan before directing her eyes up to her mother.

"Mother, I don't want to go. Don't make me. I'd much rather stay here at home with Henrietta" Emiliee looked towards Henrietta their house maid and smiled encouragingly.

Christine frowned slightly. "Go where exactly?"

At that moment Raoul walked into the room. Christine noticed that he was more dressed up then he normally would be. Her mind started working overtime. What was he hiding from her? He gave them both a kiss on the head before sitting down across from Emiliee.

"You haven't told mom yet…?" Emiliee said, looking towards her father.

"Told me what?" Christine's brown eyes grew wide as she looked to her husband, only to receive an ashamed expression back. Christine hated secrets; she didn't like to be kept in the dark on things about the household or about anything for that matter.

"Told me what?" She repeated again.

Raoul took a deep breath. He didn't know why he felt so nervous. She would probably be thrilled when he told her the news.

"Christine, in two days I thought it would be a good idea to get out of this house. You know a little change of scenery…" he trailed off, studying her face carefully. Truth is he wasn't sure if she would be too thrilled.

"You mean like a vacation? That sounds splendid" Christine answered. It would be nice to have a little time away from the house.

"Yes, it will be. Christine. It's..." Raoul paused and looked towards Emiliee. He didn't feel comfortable talking about this in front of his daughter. "Emiliee, why don't you go outside and take a stroll. The weather is beautiful after all"

Emiliee sighed and got up. She didn't want to argue. She could tell by her dad's tone that she really shouldn't be there anyway. Besides, she already knew.

Christine's chocolate eyes watched as her daughter left the room. She felt herself growing tenser. "Raoul, what is it? What's happening?"

"I love you. I'd just like to start by saying that," Raoul smiled at Christine and placed his hand lovingly on her cheek "I love you so much. I respect you, for being so strong, for being such a great mother and wife. But I can see that you are not completely happy..."

"Raoul, that's not true…"

"It is. I know it is. That's why I think it's best if we change our scenery. You can't stay here in this house any longer. I think we should go to our summer house. Leave Henrietta to tend to this one while we are away..." Raoul stopped and looked at Christine's emotionless face, until it finally broke out into a smile.

"Oh Raoul! That would be lovely. Just you, me and Emiliee..." But she was cut off by Raoul.

"Actually, I was thinking that we could go. Just you and I, without Emiliee. I've already made all the arrangements necessary. Henrietta is a great house maid, but lord knows I wouldn't make her shoulder all of the responsibility of caring after our child. Emiliee is becoming a young woman and I think it best she spend sometime away from this house as well…"

Christine looked at the floor trying to let all of this register in her mind. It didn't make any sense. Emiliee didn't really have anywhere else to go, none of Raoul's relatives lived around where they were.

"Where would she stay then?" Christine voiced after quite a long silence.

Raoul took a deep breath and looked into Christine's eyes. "At the Opera Populaire of course…"

Christine's eyes widened. Just at the mention of that name memories began flooding back to her. Good and Bad. She stood up with a snap, away from Raoul's loving grasp.

"Absolutely not! She can't go there! I mean…It's…It's burned down!" Christine was basically in hysterics. She didn't really want to explain to Raoul the real reasons why she didn't want her daughter to stay at the Opera House. She was supposed to have forgotten all about that.

"Not completely. They retouched everything up. Andre and Firmin are still working there. Everyone is." Raoul watched as Christine turned her back to him and gazed out the window.

She gazed at Emiliee who was on her little walk in the sunlight. Christine couldn't help but notice how much Emiliee looked like her. Same eyes, same hair.

Raoul got up and slowly walked behind Christine. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist and leaned his head on her shoulder.

"They are good people, and I've been assured that he doesn't live there anymore…" He whispered softly in her ear.

Christine closed her eyes, fighting back the burning tears that were beginning to form in her eyes. Raoul didn't need to specify who the "he" he was referring to was. What did he mean he doesn't live there anymore? Surely he didn't mean that her angel was….dead. Christine felt her heart plummet. But then she shook her head softly.

"Alright Raoul." I look forward to it"

Melz: Yay first chapter DONE! I could have written the whole thing in this chapter but I decided to cut it off here. I hope you like it…oh, it will pick up too. It just has to you know, begin first. Anyways, that's it. Please review!

dances around happily


	2. New Beginnings

**Authors Note: Sorry it took so long to get up Chapter 2. I have planned out the whole story now so it shouldn't take as long to get chapters up anymore. Just so you know, Emiliee was told a skewed version of the story of The Phantom of the Opera...I hope you enjoy….Oh and PLEASE REVIEW? Heh heh….merci beaucoup**

Emiliee sat in the back of the carriage silently. No words were uttered from her lips; no soft acknowledgment to the bumpy course which the carriage was traveling. Her dark brown eyes stared out the window, but she didn't see anything in front of her. Her mind was buzzing.

She was free. For the first time in her life, her parent's weren't there; watching her every second of everyday. Her father wasn't there, lecturing her on how a _de Chagny_ should act. What was so special about being a de Chagny? Emiliee sure as hell couldn't see it. They were supposed to be a family of wealth and nobility. But whenever she had been forced to dress up in the most expensive, elaborate clothing and parade around her stuck up relatives, she wanted to die. They showed no respect towards her. Almost as if she wasn't good enough to be a de Chagny. Her mother wasn't there. Her dear, dear mother. Her mother was just too protective for her own good. So protective that sometimes Emiliee felt she was going to suffocate.

Emiliee knew that her parents were just looking out for her, and in a way she respected that. But she couldn't understand why they were the way they were. But she had a sneaking suspicion that all of those lies that wound around her family was going to unravel.

The day was hot, a perfect summer day. But Emiliee hardly noticed it. She was headed to the Opera Populaire and that scared her on so many different levels. She had heard the story of the infamous Opera Ghost and the damage it had done to her mother. That poor, poor Meg. Christine had told her the story many times. The story of the mysterious, masked man that kidnapped her mother's best friend tried to get her to marry him and destroyed the entire building. It was a tale that was so hard to believe, so hard to comprehend. It was terrible, horrific, disturbing but yet…so intriguing. Her father had assured her many times the man was dead. This comforted her some.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the carriage lurched to a halt. Emiliee jumped and grabbed the sides of her seat. Stopping her from flying forward into the drivers' seat ahead of her. Emiliee tightened her grip around the suitcase, she wasn't really sure what to expect. Would she be accepted? Probably, as her mother and father were well-liked among the Opera people. But would they make false assumptions about her…her life…her character? Emiliee highly suspected it to be so. How could they not? They had never met her.

She slowly stepped out of the carriage and into the brightness of the day. She smiled to the driver and paid him the amount of money due, before walking up to the entrance of the Opera House. Emiliee paused in front of the doors. This began her life of independence. With a final intake of breath she slowly opened the large doors.

A cool, pleasant air surrounded her as she entered. The floors were sparkling in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. The architecture was immaculate. The beautiful statues flawlessly poised. Emiliee couldn't help but just stare at her surroundings.

She looked all around her. It was so big, so beautiful. She didn't know what to do, or where to go. When she finally noticed that she was all alone, with not the slightest idea of where she had to go. Who she had to find or what she had to do. An uneasiness rose through her body, numbing her. Was she just to stand there until someone found her?

Her head jerked towards the staircase as she heard to unknown, male voices traveling from them. There voices were light and cheerful. Discussing people and gossip that made so sense to Emiliee. But she couldn't detect that they were in fine moods. The two men finally reached the top of the staircase and spotted her standing there. Emiliee gave them a small smile.

What she noticed first was how different they looked. One was taller, clean shaven and stocky, while the other was shorter and plumper. They both however had on the same style of tasteful suit. They also both carried with them, an air of importance that was infectious.

"Well Andre, she **does **look like Christine doesn't she?" The tall one said, staring down at Emiliee.

"Of course she does. She's her daughter," the other said, looking bemused at the comment

Finally turning their actual intentions to interacting with her they spoke again.

"Hello. You must be Emiliee. You can call me M. Andre, and this here is M. Firmin. Welcome to the Opera Populaire" Andre swooped his arms around him, gesturing to the grand spectacle that surrounded them all.

Emiliee couldn't help but let out a breath of laughter. At least they were enthusiastic.

"Yes, welcome mademoiselle. We are very excited that you are here to stay with us. We have arranged that you take your mother's old dressing room. No one has used it since she left and quite honestly we have no where else to put you. I hope your mother and father are both doing well…." Firmin said smiling down at her.

Quietly wondering if he had spoke without taking a single breath Emiliee responded. "My mother's dressing room sounds…lovely. I'm sure that I will be perfectly happy there. My mother and father are both doing very well, thank you. They have just gone off for a little vacation. A distraction from their very busy lives…" Emiliee smiled back at him.

"Well that's nice to hear. Come, we shall introduce you to the rest of the company. Just leave your bags here. We'll get someone to move them for you…" Andre said

"Thank you. But if I may be too bold as to ask if I could wander the Opera House by myself? I'm sure you two have many things to attend to. I wouldn't want to get in the way…" Emiliee hoped they would let her explore alone. As kind as the two men were being to her she was finding them very annoying very quickly.

Andre raised his eyebrows and turned to Firmin. They had obviously not expected her to ask to venture around the Opera House unaccompanied. But he finally shrugged

"As you wish Mademoiselle." Andre turned to go

"If you need us, we'll be somewhere around here"

"Thanks…" Emiliee said sweetly. But slight sarcasm evident in her voice.

Emiliee sighed and began up the tall stairs. Andre and Firmin seemed like very nice people, and getting a whole dressing room to herself was also a plus. She didn't really like the idea of sharing a room with a dozen other girls. Emiliee walked into the auditorium of the theatre. Her eyes widened, here she thought the lobby of the Opera House was spectacular. The bright, red color immediately catching her attention, it's striking beauty baffling her. The stage was surrounded by ornate designs. The detail astounded her.

"It's really something isn't it…?" A voice came from directly behind her

Emiliee jumped and turned around rapidly. She had thought that she was alone. She saw a young man. He had Dark hair and prominent dark eyes. In his hand he held a broom-stick.

"God, you scared me." Emiliee said smiling at him. Her hand had somehow found its way to her head in her alarm

"I am sorry to have scared you," the man said, a Italian accent very evident in his voice

"It's alright. But you are accurate…this place **is** amazing." She turned her face back to the stage

"I'm Marcello Lancione. But you can call me Marc if you wish" He said slowly; Wondering if he really wanted to talk to him at all.

Emiliee turned to face him again.

"Pleased to meet you Marc. My name is Emiliee…I am visiting here for awhile." She sighed. Emiliee HAD wondered why her father didn't want her on the trip with them. She felt unloved, forgotten even. They had told her that they wanted to get away from the stresses of their complicated lives…was she one of the stresses?

"Emiliee, if you ever need any help or anything. You can just come to me. Some of the people here aren't as nice as the managers. Mainly Carlotta. Watch out for her." He stopped his tiring work of sweeping the ground and laid his head on the top of his broom.

"Thanks. I'll remember that." She said smiling.

In the shadows a figure stood above them. Watching silently, making no noise. The darkness consumed him, only a faint glimmer of his porcelain white mask would ever give him away. His eyes were fixed on the girl below him. He recognized her eyes, her hair, and her steady voice. But something was different. He felt his whole body freeze, his heart ached at the thought of _her_. It couldn't be her, she was too young. Besides she was dead to him now.

* * *

Christine smiled broadly. She couldn't help it. She had never felt so happy in a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt totally content with her life. A small part of her was nagging away. Reminding her of where Emiliee was and what that place had done to her in the past. But Raoul had convinced her that no harm could possibly come to Emiliee. Christine was managing to ignore the little nagging demon until the point it practically did not exist.

Christine looked at herself in the mirror. She looked absolutely radiant. She didn't know why this getaway was doing this to her. But it was, and she liked it. She didn't look as sickly thin, or as ghostly pale as she usually did when she stood in front of her mirror. She looked confident and healthy. She felt like a whole other person.

She walked outside into the glaring sunlight. The birds were chirping happily, the sea was gently lapping away at the sand banks and Raoul was sitting with his head submerged in a book on a chair overlooking it all. Christine strolled over to him and stood behind his chair. Placing his arms lovingly around his neck.

Raoul stopped reading and looked up towards her. He had noticed her change in attitude and was glad to see his wife happy again. It hurt him to see her so full of sorrow. She deserved a life of happiness and he was determined to grant her that one luxury. That one _right._

"How are you my love?" Raoul spoke softly and lovingly

"I am wonderful. I can't remember a time I was this relaxed…" She said staring off into the sunlight

Raoul stood up and turned to face her. He smiled softly and brushed her hair away from her face. They stood there motionless just staring into each other's eyes for what was like eternity. Christine smiled before moving into his slowly, Raoul moved in as well and wrapped his arms tenderly around her waist. Their lips met, and met again. Their tender and caring love the only thing in either of their minds. They stopped and smiled at each other once more. Words were not spoken, but a mutual understanding was established. They didn't have to say anything…they just wanted to soak in the feeling that they were both experiencing at that moment.

"Come Christine," Raoul spoke softly taking in every aspect of the moment "you must be famished. Let's have dinner."

Christine nodded and grabbed his hand. They walked into the villa together. It was pure bliss.

Little did they know that both their lives were about to shatter.


	3. Murmurs

The streets were vacant and still. No people inhabiting them. Water steadily poured onto the street. The weather had taken a drastic turn from the day before. It had gone from bright, cheerful and balmy to bitter, dreary and damp. The weather was, actually, a good parallel to Emiliee's mood. Sure the theatre was spectacular and breathtaking, and sure there were many passageways and doors to investigate. But after awhile of this exploration it all became monotonous. The farther Emliee walked the more aware she became of her imminent boredom. It became more and more prominent, until it felt like it totally plagued her. So finally finding her mothers old dressing room she collapsed on the bed. Eyes shut tight, letting slumber overcome her.

Emiliee opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She had no idea how long she had been sleeping, or how long she had ever been at the Opera Populaire. But she knew that she had a splitting headache that didn't seem to waver. Was this what every day was to be like? Emiliee didn't find it to be at all pleasurable and dreaded the fact that her whole summer would be spent alone with nothing but her throbbing head to accompany her. She sighed and propped herself up on the headboard, her auburn eyes glancing slowly around the room. It was big, and roomy. It was also very clean. Andre and Firmin had probably got somebody to clean it out as she was aimlessly wandering the opera house. Hadn't they told her she was the first one to use this room since her mother? That thought brought a weird feeling into her. Her mother grew up in this very Opera House. Emiliee hadn't heard many stories about it though; her mother didn't like talking about the Opera House. She didn't sing anymore either. That bothered Emiliee…whenever she met someone her mother knew in her youth they would always tell her how her mother sang like an angel. But she would always change the subject almost automatically.

Emiliee couldn't sing to save her life. She enjoyed going to the odd opera once and awhile. The whole spectacle of it all excited her. But the actual singing sometimes bothered her. She remembered long ago her father took her to the opera **FAUST. **She was only young but she remembered it well. How she clung to her father's hand as she admired the elaborate gowns and suits of the wealthy nobles. Being in awe of the magic on the stage. How the sets moved, people appeared out of no where…it was all fantastic. Emiliee became obsessed with the music. She listened so intently that she could recite certain lines from certain songs. She ran around the house, belting out a few words to each song and driving her parents insane. Emiliee soon lost interest in it all as her older years began.

A soft knocking at the door jolted Emiliee from her thoughts. Her voice was weak from not having said a word for hours…maybe even days. Had it been days?

"Hello?"

Emiliee sat up straighter. She hadn't the slightest idea who the mystery person behind the door was. She hardly knew anyone at the opera. A muffled voice answered back at her. It was a female's…high and sweet, sweeping politeness rolling softly off her tongue.

"Hello Emiliee. It's Meg Giry…may I come in?"

Emiliee smiled. She knew Meg, of course she knew Meg. Meg was her mother's best friend. Or used to be anyway, she hadn't seen her for years. But awhile ago her visits to their home had been quite frequent. There came a point where Emiliee even considered her as a sister. Imagine that…a sister that was old enough to be her mother.

"Of course Meg! Come on!" She spoke enthusiastically.

The door creaked open and Meg entered. Her dress was plain and simple and her blond hair was tied back neatly in a bun. She smiled as she saw Emiliee on the bed and walked over to her.

"I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?" She asked sweetly

"I'm pretty good. Here pull up a chair" Emiliee said motioning to a nearby chair in front of the long mirror.

Meg nodded and walked slowly over to it. She stopped in front of the mirror and stared at it carefully. Her expression unreadable. Emiliee watched her with interest, whatever she was doing it wasn't because she was checking her reflection in it. Meg turned around and looked back at Emiliee lying on the bed. She looked just like her mother. It was just all too bizarre for Meg to take.

"Actually Emiliee they need your help at rehearsal…" She said nodding slightly

Emiliee's raised her eyebrows "Rehearsal? Why do they need my help?"

"I'm not sure, they just told me to come and get you" Meg shrugged

Emiliee nodded and stood up. She was baffled, she was useless really. But she might as well try and contribute to something. It would keep her mind off how incredibly bored to death she was.

Emiliee walked down the corridors silently. Meg a few paces behind her. She wasn't sure what to say to her. They hadn't seen each other for such a long time that she didn't know where to begin. She couldn't even remember anything interesting about her life that Meg would be remotely interested in.

The silence was incredibly awkward but both people pretended not to notice it. As soon as they swung open the doors to the stage a whole other atmosphere surrounded them. A much more hectic and stressed atmosphere. This calmed Emiliee, she now would not need to worry about talking to Meg. It was too loud to do so anyway.

Emiliee wandered out onto the stage right into the middle of where the company was rehearsing. A tall, aged woman turned to look at her sharply. Her makeup was heavily done, caked on and peeling off her face. At first Emiliee thought she was wearing her stage makeup but after a quick glance to the other principle actors she realized that is wasn't. The woman's features contorted into an angry glare and Emiliee half expected her to explode.

"THIS GIRL IS RUINING MY CONCENTRATION! I AM TRYING TO REHERSE! I CANNOT WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS! I CANNOT!" She screamed

Emiliee just starred at her, shocked. She had never been talked to like that in her life.

"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to interrupt…."She stammered clumsily

"GET THIS GIRL OUT OF MY SIGHT NOW!" The woman pointed an accusing finger at Emiliee.

Emiliee felt herself clam up. She didn't much like these confrontations. She didn't know how to react, what to say, what to do, who to turn to. Should she leave, stay, smile, laugh? Was all of this a joke? Was she joking? Emiliee couldn't tell. But she WAS an actress.

Emiliee looked around her quickly, she felt her breathing quicken and her face burn a dark shade of scarlet.

"Emiliee come on over here." A male voice filled her ears. It was reassuring to her, almost familiar

She turned seeing Marcello standing there. A rag tossed lazily over his shoulder. He walked up to the stage calmly and grabbed Emiliee on the arm.

"Thanks" she murmured to him softly

"We are sorry to have disturbed you La Carlotta. Please continue with you rehearsal. Oh and I highly advise you not to talk to a de Chagny like that in the future."

Carlotta froze in mid scream. She turned slowly to face Marcello, her eyes widened as he spoke. As she moved her eyes over to Emiliee her face slowly slipped into a shade of a hideous mauve.

Inwardly Emiliee cringed. There that name was again the _de Chagny_ . She didn't want people treating her differently just because she had some stupid title.

"You….Your……You're……CHRISTINE'S DAUGHTER?" She asked, enraged at the mere thought of that chorus girl taking over her position.

Emiliee nodded slowly, glancing warily at Marcello. But he wasn't looking at her.

"Yes she is. So I would advise not to talk so vulgarly to those families of higher esteem them yourself" He smiled elatedly.

Marcello led Emiliee off the stage and around into the audience. Emiliee smiled at him.

"So that's Carlotta"

Marcello nodded and laughed to himself.

"Yes it is. Sorry about that. It wasn't personal don't worry. Emiliee, I actually called you here to see if you could help me with a few things" His tone changed from jubilant triumph to businesslike superior.

Emiliee, noticing his immediate change in attitude, nodded. "Sure"

He looked around him. Contemplating what task would be best to tackle first.

"Could you do me a huge favor and polish out each box? It's a pretty straightforward job…"

Emiliee smiled and looked around her. The smile soon vanishing in spite of herself. There were so many boxes.

"Thanks" He said before she could even answer his question. He tossed the rag over in her direction and took off into the backstage area of the stage.

Emiliee found herself standing alone, in the midst of confusion. She sighed and began making her way up to Box 1. As she saw it the faster she started. The faster she would be able to finish.

With every box Emiliee grew more and more tired, more and weaker and more and more bitter. She found herself muttering angrily under her breath. Hadn't Marcello just told off Carlotta for talking to her poorly because she was a Chagny and then what did he do? He goes and sends her off on a million hopeless and tedious tasks like she were a housemaid.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Emiliee traveled from box to box polishing silently. She didn't see why they even had to be polished. People went to watch the opera not to inspect the….

Emiliee froze, her heart stopped beating. Her hair prickled up on the back of her neck. She heard something, something soft like someone had been moving. She also had that sickening feeling that someone was watching her. Emiliee slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder. Her head pounding in her ears, and her breath catching and becoming shallow. There was no one there.

But they she heard a voice, a soft voice. A voice that made her heart want to explode. It was beautiful, like a haunting melody that would not fade. It was just a whisper.

The words were unrecognizable, Emiliee's appreciation for the whisper grew to terror and she turned and ran straight of the box. Box 5.

* * *

Christine opened her eyes slowly. It was late in the day, she slept in. Oh how long it had been since she had last got a good night sleep. No nightmares plagued her dreams the night before. Only thoughts of happiness, joy and love filled her head and she was content with that.

She looked turned her head and readjusted it on her pillow. She gazed on her husband who lay sleeping beside her. He was such a noble man. He was so loving, so trusting, so loving… _so predictable_. She stopped herself as she thought those words. It wasn't true she loved him….even if he was a little predictable.

Christine rose slowly careful not to wake Raoul. She tiptoed silently down the long staircase and entered the kitchen.

It was empty, the sunlight streaming in welcomingly through the open windows. The day was fresh and warm. Christine smiled to herself, it was so peaceful. Without realizing it she began humming quietly under her breath, the humming turned to tralala-ing and that tralala-ing turned to singing.

Even though she didn't realize she was singing. She sang. She sang the first time in years…

**_Past the Point of No Return, no going back now. Our passion play has now at last begun. Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question, how long should we to wait before we're one…_**

The harmless singing turned into playful day dreaming. She felt his breath on her neck, His face in her hair, His strong arms wrapped possessively around her body. She couldn't help but smile.

Christine dropped the glass she had been carrying. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had been singing, and who she had been dreaming about…almost yearning for. She scolded herself for such a thing.

She bent over to pick up the broken pieces of the glass when she saw Raoul's feet. Raoul was standing in the doorway, pain evident across his face. Christine did a quick intake of breath before speaking.

"Good Morning Raoul…" She began but she was cut off by Raoul. His voice was wild and uneven

"You we're singing….singing THAT song. Christine I thought we had gone over this. I don't want you to sing ANYMORE. Never. Listen, we have to forget the past and move on. Forget about it. You're safe now. No need to fret. Christine…Christ Christine. How could you sing that? THAT SONG! Don't you realize what song that Is? It's HIS song….that monster…" Raoul looked at her angrily.

At the beginning of the speech Christine nodded. Ashamed of herself for singing, ashamed of herself for remembering. But as his speech reached the closing she felt her whole body tensing up, rage bubbled within her waiting to explode.

It was her turn to cut Raoul off.

"Don't you ever insult him EVER again..." her voice was strained

Raoul looked at her taken aback. He stared at her hard before turning and stomping up into their bedroom.

She could hardly believe what she had said. She didn't understand why she reacted that way, but Raoul did. And it hurthim so badly.


	4. Death and Insanity

Emiliee didn't stop running until she was safely inside her dressing room. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears whilst her whole body was shaking. She sighed and began pacing the room without realizing it. She tried to clear her aching and hazy head.

_I just imagined it_ she thought to herself.

Emiliee let out a breath and sat down on the bed. The linen and sheet ruffled under her weight. The young teenager ran her fingers down the ornate decoration of the quilt and stared out into space. She had been so stupid. Of course she imagined it. What did she think it was…a ghost?

_Yes_ she thought subconsciously.

She shook her head and lay down on the pillow. There was no such thing as ghosts! She was being a child; a cowardly, dim-witted child! The only thing that bothered her was that the voice was so real. Emiliee had felt the breath upon her neck, she had heard the voice, but what baffled her was the way that she had _felt_ the voice. Imagine **feeling** a voice. Why it was absurd! You couldn't feel a voice just like you couldn't see air.

Emiliee sat up slowly and looked around the room. She glanced around at the random pieces of belongings scattered lazily all around it. It was funny; she had thought the room to be to clean and tidied before but now. Now the more she looked the more she actually saw. She saw books and hair pieces, boxes and other rubbish that had no real meaning for Emiliee.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked up to the mirror. Emiliee began fixing her hair and looking at her garments. She ran her hand down her dress, tilting her head sideways. She didn't look bad, not bad at all. Instantaneously her body ached for sleep and she turned around to go. But then she stopped. Her gaze still fixed on the mirror. Emiliee's eyebrows caved in confused. Boy did she ever need sleep. First she was thinking all that nonsense about feeling a voice and now she was imagining a crevice in a mirror.

Emiliee slowly walked forward to the mirror. The closer she got the more prominent the crevice became until she was certain that she wasn't imagining it. Warily she ran her hand down the side of it and let out a thin gasp of air. Her hand slid into the crevice. Emiliee stood there motionless for a moment. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was on the other side. Violent images swirled in front of her eyes at all of the terrible things that could be behind it. Finally taking one last breath she cautiously pushed the mirror open. Emiliee's eyes widened at the dark, dank passageway that lay before her. Was she really to venture down it? In her youth she had been told stories of monsters and beasts that had captured the princess and, on more then one occasion, killed people. Emiliee took a deep breath and, reminding herself that those stories were not real, she continued her way down the passage. Nothing could prepare her for the monster that awaited her at the end of the tunnel.

Emiliee traveled on and on, the dark never parting into sunlight. The only source of illumination was the pitiful candles that lined the walls. The candles were small and their numbers dwindled the farther down the passageway she got. As she traveled, she felt her uneasiness vanish. Fear was replaced with curiosity and, although the uncertainty of reaching the end haunted her, she was very eager to get there.

She suddenly stopped, staring directly ahead of her. Staring back was pitch black darkness. The candles didn't reside ahead of her and no light could help her lead the way. Emiliee took a deep breath. Was she to travel on with no light? Stumbling around clumsily until some creature consumed her? For the first time she felt more inclined to turn back. But for some strange reason, turning her back on the darkness scared her more then traveling into it. So with one last breath she began walking forward.

Immediately she lost sight at what was ahead of her. She didn't know where she was, what she was doing, and in what direction she was headed. But even though all that was true, she continued walking. She walked alone, only the sound of her feet echoing against the harsh stone floor followed her. Slowly her curiosity vanished and pure horror registered in her brain. What was she doing? No one knew where she was…no one could come and rescue her if she got lost…or worse.

Emiliee turned back to the direction she came, or what she thought was that direction anyway, and cautiously began walking back. She walked quicker, desperate to be back in the comforting realm of her dressing room. Until she let out a piercing scream.

She felt the floor move beneath her until there was no more left to support her. She fell straight down, hurtling to her death. Emiliee screamed as she had never screamed before. She screamed in terror, in regret, in sorrow and in the uncertainty all she could think was that one true fact that plagued her body, mind and soul. **She was going to die.**

She felt her body hit the floor harshly, her bones breaking under her weight. Her head hit the floor second. It felt as though it was shattering. Never before in her life had she ever felt pain to this degree. She opened her eyes slowly. Her vision was hazy. She couldn't lift her head and slowly she could see less and less. But she could make out the walls of what looked like mirrors. She saw a metal haze in the distance and a rope tied from it. Emiliee closed her eyes sharply. She could feel herself losing consciousness, losing life. With all of the will-power she could muster she tried to keep her eyes open. But in a matter of seconds her eyes closed and her body stopped stirring.

* * *

Christine sat silently at the kitchen table. Tears moistened her pale, but yet alluring face. How could she have said those things to Raoul? He had always been so helpful, so loving.

_But I meant it_

Christine sighed. She knew it was true.

That scared her, how passionately she had felt about Raoul insulting her angel. She had forgotten all about that. But inside she knew that she hadn't. She had only pretended to, for Raoul and Emiliee's sakes. She hadn't wanted their lived to be spiraling into immense darkness as hers had been. She had done it for them but yet she also knew she had been doing it for herself as well.

Christine just wanted to forget the pain and the hardship that followed with memories of her days at the Opera House. It had been such a big part of her life but Raoul had insisted she forget about it all. She couldn't forget. It was all a part of who she was. **He **was a part of who she was.

She looked up silently as she heard rushed footsteps coming down the stairs. She didn't want to look at Raoul, much less have a conversation with him as she knew she wouldn't be able to keep it friendly and civilized.

When Raoul appeared in the doorway his appearance shocked her. His hair was messily tangled around his shoulders. His clothes were not fully on and his eyes were wide with horror. As he spoke his voice was dazed and distressed. Christine knew in an instant something was wrong, and whatever it was, it extended beyond their riff that morning.

"Christine…..Oh Christine…" He stared at the floor, visibly fighting back sign of any emotion.

Christine watched him carefully. She wasn't sure how to react.

"Christine…I just received word from my…" he took a deep breath and continued on "Christine my cousin Jeffery is dead."

Christine's eyes widened. True, she had only met the man once in her lifetime but he had been very pleasant to her and she knew how close Raoul was with his cousin. In that instant she lost her voice, it came out softly. Almost only consisting of air.

"Oh Raoul, I'm…I'm so sorry. How did it happen?" She rose. Christine didn't want to move any closer to her husband as she already was. But she knew how desperately he needed comforting.

Raoul looked up at her and studied her face carefully. She looked so concerned and so caring. But a slight fire brewed within him. Her heart and soul belonged to another person. He had just lost his cousin and he was losing her. He was losing her more with every moment that passed and he wasn't sure he could do anything about it. Christine's inquiry however, made him forget about that monster that was in fact to be presumed dead, to the cause of his cousin's death. Raoul didn't want to disclose the information. It saddened him so.

"It was a freak accident. He fell, hit his head and….and…bled to death." His words came out softly and tears began to flow down his cheeks.

Christine felt her heart plummet. A single tear dropped down her already tear stained face.

"Oh Raoul…I'm…I'm so sorry…" She said looking up at him.

Raoul shook his head slowly. "I can't believe my life has come to this, my cousins dead and my wife doesn't love me….doesn't respect me…you betrayed me Christine…." He trailed off, slamming his fist against the kitchen counter.

Christine's compassion for Raoul faded. She looked at his with a steady gaze.

"I betrayed you? I betrayed YOU!" Her voice tested him.

Raoul looked up at her and walked over to her slowly. He grabbed her shoulder roughly and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"You love him don't you…?" He said threateningly

Christine stopped breathing, she couldn't think. She knew exactly what he meant but why was he asking her now? The statement caught her completely off guard. Was Raoul going to hurt her?

"I….I…." Christine stammered lamely

Raoul shook her roughly once more. "Look at me…LOOK AT ME! You love him…."

Christine said nothing as she stared at him. She looked deep in his eyes. The Raoul she knew was gone. She could find no trace of him. The new Raoul resided. The Raoul she had driven into insanity.

He nodded slowly and released her. He laughed silently to himself. His laugh was soft but menacing. Christine had never seen him act this way before.

"You **will** love me Christine. You will learn to love me like you did when we were children. You will forget all about that monster that lived under that Opera House. That monster who took you from me using nothing but childish mind games. That hideous, terrible monster with no soul. No compassion, no nothing. You **WILL **love me!"

Christine stood there shocked. What was happening to her beloved? She wanted to scream, to shout, and to slap him for insulting her angel. She wanted to hug him to tell him everything was going to be fine. She wanted to run away from him. But she desperately wanted to love him. If she loved him there would be none of these problems.

"He's dead Christine. Don't you remember that? HE'S DEAD" Raoul shouted. His voice echoing through the entire house. Penetrating the walls, the floors and Christine's very soul.

He always knew that she belonged to him. That knowledge that he would only ever be second best had eaten away from him. Until he finally reached the brink of insanity.


	5. Bitter Realizations

Raoul sat on his bed. Tears ran slowly down his face. He quickly wiped them all away for he didn't like to cry. Crying showed weakness and vulnerability. His head hurt from how hard he was thinking. He thought about Jeffery, his good friend. Jeffery had always understood him. How he felt, how he thought, how he made his decisions. Raoul just couldn't believe the way he finally left the world. A stupid little head wound and some very poor doctors? That was not dieing with dignity, with courage.

He thought about Jeffery for a long time. He knew that he was avoiding thinking about Christine. But he couldn't deny it any longer. The picture of Christine a few hours earlier swam into his mind. She was distraught and upset. He relived the horror in her eyes as he had grabbed her. Yelling at her for confirmation that the love he felt for her was mutual, but it did not come.

Raoul let out a violent sob. Tears began pouring from his eyes. His heart ached. Never had he felt the pain that he was feeling at that moment. For he would never even dream of hurting Christine. Why did he lose control?

His body lurched violently through his heavy sobs. He was disgusted with himself. Raoul desperately wished he could take back all that he had said. For the moment that he slammed the door that separated them both, a sharp realization hit him hard. He was no better then the man he despised above all others. He was no better then **him**.

Raoul jumped from the bed. His head swam with a million thoughts. All he knew for sure was that he had to find Christine. He had to apologize; he had to tell her all the things he had been keeping inside him for so long. But his heart was weighted with the harsh reality that he may have lost her forever.

Slowly and cautiously he walked down the spiraling staircase. The silence was deafening and this only heightened his extreme uneasiness.

"Christine?" Raoul enquired softly, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

There was no reply.

He walked slowly into the kitchen. The broken glass still lay upon the floor, but there was no sign of Christine.

"Christine?" Raoul called out again, a bit louder then before.

No one answered his calls.

Raoul's heart started to pick up speed as he went from room to room.

She wasn't in the bathroom. She wasn't in her bedroom, the drawing room, the hall, the ballroom, the second bedroom, the third bedroom, the laundry room…

_This house is ridiculously large _he thought to himself furiously.

Raoul began to run around the house like a madman, yelling her name at the top of his lungs. Checking each room once, twice, three times…

His vision began to fog over. She was gone. She had left him.

He stopped in the middle of the spare bedroom. (Of what seemed like thousands). Raoul couldn't remember if he had checked that room before. Tears began to well up in his eyes again, the sobbing started. He was breathing deeply and harshly.

"Oh Christine" Those two words were spoken with so much feeling. So much sadness, it was more then he could bear.

"CHRISTINE!" He yelled as loud as he could, his voice cracking with emotion. "Christine…I'm sorry….I'm…I...I'm so…" Raoul's voice gave out and he sank slowly to his knees. His body shook with his silent (and not-so-silent) sobs.

Memories spun in front of him. Their wedding, he was watching Christine walk down the aisle. She looked absolutely stunning. She smiled at him and he felt himself melt away. Never before had he seen her smile at him like she had at that moment. Christine hardly smiled anymore.

Their wedding night. Soft, unsure, timid but yet beautiful.

Raoul wouldn't have traded these memories for anything in the world.

God, he loved her.

The sobbing continued on and on without end. He pitied himself for what he had lost.

"Raoul?" A soft voice came from behind him. It absorbed within him and made all of his tears and crying cease to exist. The voice was so gentle, so loving, he dared not interrupt it.

Slowly Raoul opened his eyes and, hardly daring it to be true, turned his head to the doorway.

There stood Christine. Her hair tied up on her head, the pieces that strayed flowing softly down onto her shoulders. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed upon the scene that lay before her.

"Oh Raoul" Christine let out a sharp breath and slowly walked towards him.

She kneeled beside him and took him in her arms. She hadn't forgotten how Raoul had yelled at her and grabbed her. But she couldn't bear seeing him the way he was. She didn't think she had ever seen him in that state.

Raoul's breathing got deeper and shakier. She hadn't left. She was right there, holding him.

"Oh Christine" He repeated softly under his breath. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…" He trailed off as another violent sob overtook his body.

"Shh…" Christine held him tightly to her and rocked him back and forth. Like a mother rocking her child to sleep. Reassurance flooded Raoul's body. He could hardly believe that she was touching him.

She detached herself slowly from her grasp and gazed upon her husband. A soft smile played across her lips.

Raoul took a deep breath. He knew he had to tell her, to explain his actions. Even if she insisted she didn't need to hear them.

His eyes locked with hers and, hesitating at first, brushed the stray hair from her face and placed it softly behind her ear. Christine did not flinch or make any move to leave him.

"Christine…" his voice was merely a whisper slowly building confidence, "Christine, I didn't mean to speak to you the way I did before….I just..."

"Raoul, please…it's ok Raoul…its ok"

"No…Christine. It's not." He sighed and then began again, "Jeffery's death…his…his death shocked me. I felt…I can't even describe how I felt, Christine. I would never hurt you…I would never dream of…But I heard you singing…you were singing. Oh Christine, you have the most beautiful voice I have every heard. But…But I….in that moment I felt as though I was losing everything. I lost my cousin and now I'm losing you…."

Tears began to softly fall down her face as she listened to Raoul trek on through his speech.

"Raoul, you aren't losing me," her voice was strong. She had to convince him that she meant what she was saying…somehow.

He turned his face away from her.

"Raoul…Raoul look at me," Christine gently turned his head towards her own. Tears were beginning to fall freely from both of them, "You aren't losing me. You will never lose me. I'm right here…I love you"

Raoul stared at her shocked. His eyes never left hers as if he was trying to detect even a hint of deception.

Christine leaned into him and kissed him softly. Raoul responded, wrapping his arms tenderly around her waist.

The kiss seemed to last forever. When they finally parted silence overwhelmed them.

Raoul let a small smile break through his tear-stained face. He sighed and wiped them away before speaking again. As much as he hated the immense understanding and loving vibe that was consuming them he had to set some things straight.

"Christine…I love you. I love you so much."

Christine smiled at him and wiped away some of her own tears. Slowly she began realizing how silly she must look, sitting in the middle of the room with tears streaming down her face.

"Christine…Where did you go? I thought I had lost you…" Raoul stared up at her, awaiting her answer. He had called out in the house so many times and with such volume that he was sure that, if Christine had indeed been in the house, that she would have heard t hem.

Christine sighed and stood up slowly. She was choosing her words carefully as if they could be greatly misinterpreted.

"You have a right to know where I went and what I was doing..." she said more to herself then to Raoul "After I…after you left the kitchen I sat there for a long time. Staring off into space, lost in my own thoughts. I decided to go out for a walk to clear my head. I just want you to know Raoul that I love you, and that I…I know…" Christine closed her eyes slowly trying very hard to force out the words wish she didn't wish to speak "I know that Erik is dead. I know it. I'm sorry. He terrified me Raoul, absolutely terrified me. I had just forgotten how much…"

Raoul sighed heavily. His outburst had reminded her of that monster. Reminded her of what **he** put her through all those years ago.

* * *

Emiliee couldn't remember a time in her life when she had felt such unspeakable pain. Never had her head throbbed so excruciatingly or her body felt so fragile and broken. A sharp and devastating pain erupted through her if she even tried to move a finger. Emiliee's eyes flickered open quickly. Where was she? The room was dreadfully out of focus and it wasn't clearing up either. She quickly learned that so much as trying to sit up or move her head was impossible.

The room was bathed in darkness but shadows loomed over her threateningly. As if they were lions ready to pounce and attack their prey. The room was cluttered and in total disarray. The complete opposite set up as her mothers own dressing room. Emiliee wondered how long it had been since she left the dressing room. Was everyone out looking for her? Did anyone notice? It could have been days…weeks even. Emiliee started panicking. The room she was in didn't bear any resemblance to any room she had ever been in before.

Emiliee tried to lift her head sharply, only resulting in whacking it hard against the headboard. She groaned loudly and lay back into her pillow. The bump and the excessive panicking and thinking were causing the untamable pain in her head to steadily become worse.

The room was still fuzzy; she couldn't make out whole objects. But she did sense movement from the doorway. Emiliee's whole body stiffened. Someone was in there and she couldn't move. She was powerless against this madman's wrath. Her mind swam with a thousand thoughts of what would happen to her; Murder, Rape, Violence…her breathing quickened. Emiliee didn't want to imagine herself in that position. She had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable. She was trapped in this _place _where no one knew where she was. They wouldn't hear her scream or struggle; her father wouldn't come to save her or her mother. Or even Marcello. She was totally and completely alone.

_Except for that murderous lunatic in the doorway _she thought bitterly to herself

Never before had she longed for her parents as much as she did then. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about them. They had trusted her to take care of herself and what did she do? She goes walking down a mysterious passageway behind a mirror and falls through the floor and then wakes up in some person's room…

Emiliee didn't want to think of what she did. The irresponsibility that caused her to venture further and further made her feel stupid and immature. Now where was she because of her own bloody ignorance? Facing her death, unless of course she was hallucinating.

Emiliee held onto this thought like it were the most precious thing in the world. Hallucination. Maybe she was dreaming and in a few seconds she would wake up in her mother's dressing room and go and finish cleaning out the boxes for Marcello. Yes, that is what she'd do. Now all she had to do was wake up…

Emiliee became painfully aware that the menacing shadow demon was drawing closer to her bed. She tried to stay calm...

_I'm just dreaming…this isn't real. In a few seconds I'll wake up from this nightmare…It's ok...It's going to be ok…_

"Who are you?" asked the shadow demon, stopping a ways from the bed so Emiliee couldn't see **it** clearly. Its voice was harsh, angry, menacing…all of the key factors needed to be a threat.

Emiliee didn't answer. She thought furiously of waking up. Then she had the most incredible idea. All she had to do was pinch herself. So Emiliee drew a shaky hand to her arm and pinched herself hard. Wincing she realized that the pain was all too real.

The shadow demon grew angry when it did not receive a reply. Emiliee couldn't see it but she was sure that it spoke the next words through gritted teeth to keep its composure.

"I'll ask you one last time…" it said threateningly. But before it could finish its sentence Emiliee found her voice.

"I'm…I'm…" At least she _thought_ she had found it

"You're WHO?" The demon asked angrily walking a bit closer to her bed.

Emiliee strained her eyes as hard as she could to get a clear picture. But the haziness did not lift.

"I'm Emiliee…" she began lamely. Her voice giving out before she could say more.

"Emiliee? Emiliee who? I don't know anyone by that name." The voice was getting confused.

"Emiliee de…" she wasn't sure if she should give her name. Would the title cause for death? Or maybe this mysterious "demon" would want ransom money. Maybe the title would spare her life. With this sudden realization she spoke with more defiance then she actually felt "Emiliee de Chagny."

There was silence in the room. Emiliee's eyes darted around trying to find the thing that had been talking to her so harshly before. She could only hear its heavy breathing which seemed to get heavier by the second.

Suddenly the demon let out an angry wail and Emiliee jumped as she heard a heavy object smash against the wall not too far from where she was lying. Without another word the demon stormed from the room slamming the door behind him with such force that Emiliee was sure that he had broken it from the hinges.

Emiliee sat horrified as she faintly heard more destruction from behind the door. Frozen to her spot…she wondered if she would ever see her family again.

**Author's Note : Sorry it took so long for an update. I should have the next chapter up as soon as I can. Oh and sorry about all of the R/C to you E/C fans. It's just necessary for the story but try and enjoy it all the same. Oh, and I'm sorry I was making you guys sign in to review. I didn't know that it was set like that so I changed it so…Review! Please…I love reviewers. I'll give you chocolate cookies if you do…-wink wink nudge nudge-**


	6. Fatality

**Authors Note : So here's Chapter 6. I hope you enjoy. I don't think I've said this before but this is based on Kay/Leroux and Webber. So it could get a tad bit confusing but just try and go with it ;) **

**Thank you to all of you that reviewed! You are amazing and give me so much more inspiration to write.****Well here you are. I hope you like and please review! **

Emiliee wasn't sure how long she lay there. She felt as if she couldn't move, even if she wanted to. The yelling and smashing had long subsided but Emiliee knew that the thing that had been talking to her before was still somewhere close. Even if it wasn't, she didn't want to risk anything. So she lay there. Too frightened to move, or think, or speak or even breathe. Much less escape. Her limbs pounded with pain. She highly suspected that she broke and tore many of them. There wasn't much chance that she could get far if she tried to run.

Running was useless. She didn't know where she was, how far away she was from the Opera House. She wasn't even sure if she could stand up. Emiliee moved her eyes slowly around the room. Scanning everything, and trying for the first time to get her bearings. Her vision had significantly improved since her fall which was at least a small comfort to her. She had feared that she may have lost her vision all together.

Emiliee had indeed sat there for hours, with nothing but her own thoughts to console her. It was a bizarre thing, being locked in a dark room all alone for an extended period of time. It messed with your head. At first all she could think of was that man…at least she thought it was a man. That terrifying man. Her mind wouldn't stop swimming with gruesome ways in which she may meet her end. After he had stormed out of the room she had expected him to return with a gun or knife. Something to end her life.

After the initial shock of everything had settled the sudden and impending awareness that her head was throbbing more and more steadily and excruciatingly completely overwhelmed her. She thought about her parents. They had always been so good to her. They were very protective parents, which she never appreciated. But in that moment that she realized she may never see them again it hit her like a rock in her gut. She loved them. She needed them. She wanted to see them.

But she doubted she would ever get to see them again.

Emiliee looked around again and her eyes fell on the only door in the room. Obviously heading out. Out into the world again: to her parents, to the Opera, to her normal life. Emiliee's head began racing with a million different choices. She could try and escape through the door, or she could lie and wait for that man to return.

Emiliee was a very indecisive person. She usually had a lot of things chosen for her. Little decisions she never bothered herself with and big life-altering ones…well there hadn't been that many. And if there had been her parents had dealt with it without telling her. So many years of not thinking for herself weighed down on her as she weighed the choices she had to make now. The choices that determined her fate. Win or Lose. Life or Death.

Finally Emiliee began to sit up slowly. She had decided she would much rather try and get out then just sit there and wait for him to come back and kill her. Or worse. Emiliee shook those thoughts from her mind. She had to have a clear head if she was ever going to get out alive.

She moved ridiculously slowly. Every single crack or shuffle made her freeze in her spot. Even if those sounds were made from herself. Her feet slowly padded along the carpeted room towards the door. It was deadly silent. She could hear her feet walking slowly across the room and she could hear her light, rattling breaths. But they didn't seem like they were hers.

Her legs exploded with pain every step she took and her head felt dreadfully heavy. But she tried to ignore it.

She stopped as she approached to the door. Her eyes were locked on the doorknob. With a last shaky and hesitant breath she laid her hand upon it and turned it slowly.

Emiliee half-expected it to be locked. Her emotions ran wild as it slowly creaked open. She wasn't sure if she was actually content it was. She rather wished that it had been locked and she wouldn't be aimlessly walking around in the dark like she was.

Her eyes scanned around her. She couldn't make out much, it was so amazingly dark. But she could see another door. She sighed. She had come this far, she had to keep going.

Stepping through that door as well she walked out into the front yard. Or was it a front yard. Emiliee turned around and stared in wonder at the house that lay in front of her and then looked back to the front. There was a large lake stretching around it. It ran slowly and eerily. But Emiliee found herself strangely attracted to it. She suddenly had an unexplainable urge to run and throw herself into it. Let its icy depths completely engulf her.

She gazed at it in wonder. It was a long while before she noticed the boat sitting quietly by the shoreline. Emiliee couldn't believe her luck. She had escaped. All she had to do was take that boat off this river and then….and then….

Confusion filled the once confident young De Chagny. Her fixation with her surroundings had dissolved into fear again.

_Where the hell was she?_

She had absolutely no idea.

Never the less, Emiliee slowly began to make her way to the small boat. She figured that as long as she was as far away from this peculiar place she would be fine.

She was about two steps from it when she suddenly felt a presence. She couldn't describe what it felt like. She wasn't sure what it was but it was there. A shiver ran through her spine. Slowly she turned around; dreading to see what was watching her.

A man stood in front of her. He was thin, tall and bony. But he had this allure about him. An aura that made him illusory, almost dreamlike. His frail frame didn't for one moment make Emiliee feel that he could not hurt her. The whole air about him as very, very threatening. But the most abnormal thing about the man standing in front of him was not his presence or figure. It was that he wore a mask. A half of a white mask covering the right side of his face. Emiliee was suddenly plagued with curiosity and she knew in an instant that this was the shadow demon that had scared her all those hours ago.

She could not think of anything to say to him. Should she apologize, or run for her life. Maybe she should just swim across the lake. Would he catch up to her? But her thoughts ended abruptly as he started to speak to her. The sound of his voice amazed her. It was hypnotic when it wasn't screaming insults or threats.

"What are you doing?" He asked. He talked as if it was the most regular conversation being held in the most regular circumstances. His eyes played with an almost comical expression.

Emiliee just stared at him. The comical expression in his eyes vanished in an instant. The fascination changed into fear once more and Emiliee couldn't think of anything. She was completely frozen.

"You…You're going to kill me aren't you" Emiliee said. Surprised that the words came from her.

The man met her gaze and stared at her for a long time. Emiliee soon began to feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.

"No." he said finally "But I could."

He began to talk through clenched teeth.

"You remember that child. I can kill you whenever I want to. You speak of this to no one, do you understand me?"

Emiliee stood silently and watched him. He let out a long and angry sigh.

"You are one of the most dimwitted children I have ever laid eyes on. I know you have a voice, now use it! Do…you…understand…me!"

Emiliee nodded slowly. Her voice was but a whisper "I do."

Turning slowly to the boat she tried to get into it. She couldn't think of what she was doing. All she knew was that she had to get away from him.

A sharp pain enveloped her head. She felt a sharp object descend upon it and then she was engulfed in complete darkness and could see or think no more.

* * *

Henrietta walked around the empty de Chagny manor. It was so empty and forlorn when the family did not inhabitant it. Although she was nothing more then a house maid she still felt a strange connection to the family. Raoul was such a noble and hardworking man and the daughter, Emiliee, was a joy. She was hard-headed and difficult at most times but this did not anger Henrietta. Actually it amused her greatly. But the one she worried and thought of most was of dear Christine. She was battling some of the worst evil spirits that she had ever seen anyone had to face. On more then one occasion Christine had been present in Henrietta's prayers.

A large bang from the front of the house jarred Henrietta out of her thoughts. She heard a loud crash, thump and then the voices of men. It had to be at least 4 or 5. There voices were raised, they made no attempt to hide the fact that they were intruding upon the home. There words were slurred as they yelled uninterruptible commands at each other. Henrietta knew at once that they must have consumed great amounts of alcohol prior to arriving.

Terrified she ran into the nearest bedroom and closed herself away in the closet. She wasn't sure what they were after but she didn't want to be found. Men that were strong enough to knock the door right off its hinges could easily bring her to harm.

The voices floated around the entire house. She strained her eyes to understand what they were saying. If only she knew what they wanted. Not until the words "just find her" reached her ears did she know what they wanted. They were looking for _someone _not something.

She heard pounding footsteps reach the top of the spiraling staircase and they stopped right in front of the room which Henrietta was hiding. Her breath caught in her chest and she knew that if they didn't leave there soon she was to suffocate.

The voices grew softer and the footsteps more quiet. But she could still distinctly hear them enter the bedroom.

She didn't move, didn't breath. She closed her eyes and let out a silent prayer, a hope that God would protect her from the wicked men whom stood in front of her.

"We know you're in here…" one of them started.

He was greeted by a very garbled laugh by the other man with him.

Henrietta watched in horror as the handle began to turn. They had found her.

Before she knew it she was being grabbed roughly by the shoulders and thrust onto the ground. A harsh blow overtook her abdomen.

"Where are the de Chagny's?" a voice asked menacingly

Henrietta was terrified. But she would never give away the location of the de Changy's. She worked for them, and they were her friends.

Enraged by the answer the man slapped her hard across the face.

"Tell me where they are or your life is over." The accomplice drew a gun and Henrietta felt the hard, round tip meet the side of her head.

Henrietta stopped as these words sunk in. Her eyes met with the face of the man whom held her so tightly and an immense hatred overtook her. A hatred so raw and tainted that she was shocked at herself for feeling it.

She stared at him for a good long moment. Her mind was buzzing. But she knew what she had to do.

"Well…?" the man began coming closer to her face.

Henrietta recoiled at the bitter smell of his breath. But she soon gained her composure and finally spoke.

"May you forever by condemned in hell…" she said and then she spat in his face.

The last thing she saw was him nodding. Before a deafening gun shot echoed throughout the house.


	7. Unsettling Stories

Christine walked lazily around the small marketplace. It was quaint and little with charming little shops and filled with smiling people. Christine paused momentarily to gaze into the window of a whimsical gift shop. The window was filled with a display of darling little mélange. Little odds and ends that really were just useless items, but they were done up so nicely that you almost couldn't resist buying them even if they were outrageously priced. Christine held her gaze on a small thimble with a picture of the queen. Though the item did not hold much meaning to her, her mind was filled with countless thoughts. She had so much to think about, so much to straighten out in her life. But every time she got close to spending some time making sense of her mad life she would subconsciously make herself tend to something else. Procrastinating doing the one thing that could make the arising headache she was experiencing fade away.

Christine turned over her right shoulder and stared into all of the commotion. People were buying and selling, laughing and talking and even though Christine was among them she felt so alone. She couldn't get into their happy, go-lucky spirits. She couldn't join into their conversations without being the damper on their day. Over the past couple years she had begun to feel so isolated from the rest of society, like she was from a different species altogether, that she was an imposter in the human race. Christine knew that it was very hard on the rest of her beloved family. Raoul was so patient when she was having a day filled with despair and unparalleled depression. But Emiliee didn't know enough to be able to comprehend why her mother had those periods of immense sadness.

Christine scanned her eyes over the scene in front of her again. Only this time her eye caught on a small bench. A small wooden bench protected by the branches of an overhanging willow tree. Instinctively Christine began walking towards it. As she got closer she realized how aged it looked. The wood was rotting and there was moss clinging to the bottom legs. Christine knew that to sit down on the dirty, rotten bench was beneath her status in society. That people may talk and whisper and gossip. But she didn't care. Slowly she sat down. She didn't worry about the stains it may leave on her pale blue dress. She didn't think about anyone around her or what they might or might not be saying. She only thought of Emiliee.

Oh Emiliee, how dear she was. She had been their little angel sent from heaven to bring happiness into their world. She was perfect, beautiful and everything that Christine had ever dreamed of. She remembered the first time she held her. She had cradled her protectively in her arms. Tears of joy had run gently down her face as she looked upon her daughter. In that moment she promised Emiliee that she would never have her go through the pain she herself had experienced in her life. Christine had gently kissed the baby's forehead and whispered that she would never let _anything_ happen to her.

That's the reason why she had not told Emiliee the truth about the infamous Phantom of the Opera. The subject was too sensitive for Christine to discuss. She knew that she should have told her the truth. But she couldn't burden her daughter with the wicked truth of her mother's pitiful childhood and existence. She also could not bring herself to discuss it again. Every time she was forced to remember the happenings at the Opera House she couldn't bear it. Every time it got more and more real and she had convinced herself that it was not.

Christine sighed heavily and put her head in her hands. Maybe she was just insane; maybe she had lost her mind, as well as her soul.

* * *

Emiliee's eyes opened slowly. The room was blurry and dim, when she tried to move her arms to push herself up a blinding pain enveloped her body. This situation seemed all too familiar.

The last thing she remembered was getting hit on the head with something. Something hard. That man had hit her for no apparent reason! But she had been so _stupid _to turn her back on him. Emiliee straightened her body and stared around her. She was sitting on the bed in her mother's dressing room. Ahead of her lay the mirror that was actually a secret passage way. Her eyesight began to clear and she found herself staring into her own reflection. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were dirty, and she looked absolutely horrible.

A soft knock came from the doorway and hastily Emiliee ran her fingers through her hair trying to make herself look presentable. But it was useless, no matter how she tried to calm her hair it ended up springing back up again.

"Come in" Emiliee called out, realizing that it was improper to make the person wait so long.

The door creaked open and Marcello walked in. His eyes scanned the room, searching for Emiliee before spotting her comically propped up on the bed. A smile broke out on his face as he saw her.

"Emiliee where have you been? I've been looking all over for you." He said

Emiliee was silent. How could she explain where she had been without getting sent to the asylum? Besides, she had not forgotten the threat that was made to her. She didn't think that for a second he would not abide by it.

Marcello waited for an answer but when it did not come he let a small smirk play across his lips.

"Well, alright. Dinner's being served in the dinning hall. C'mon I'll show you how to get there." He said motioning towards the hallway.

Emiliee's limbs ached so furiously that she knew that there was no way she could possible make it to the dining hall where ever it was.

"Thank you Marcello," she began. Her voice was very formal. She had been taught by her parents how to speak.

"Marc" he corrected smiling again.

"Marc…right, sorry." She said a little flustered. She couldn't remember what she had been saying. It felt like there were a million people drumming in her brain. "I don't think I'll come to supper actually. I have a terrible headache and…" she trailed off, hoping that he would leave her in peace.

"You have to go," he said "the managers were going to introduce you to the entire cast and crew and we are already running late."

Emiliee sighed and then nodded slowly. "Alright, Alright. I'm coming" It seemed she had no choice in the matter and she was pretty hungry.

Shakily she stood up and walked to the door. Marcello watched her curiously as she stumbled over. Her limbs seemed very stiff and sore. Either that or she had been drinking and she didn't seem like the person to do such a thing.

"You alright?" He asked genuine concern in his voice.

"Yes," she answered a little too quickly "I'm fine."

Marcello nodded and then walked out the door. Leading her to the dinning hall in which all of the Opera Populaire staff were to have been congregated. Emiliee couldn't help but feel a tad bit nervous to what they would say about her. What they would make her say.

She walked dazedly after Marcello, not really noticing what doors she was passing or which hallways he was leading her. Being on her feet made her feel very faint. Oh God. What if she fainted during the dinner?

Before she had time to conjure up a plan to explain why she had fainted in the middle of dinner she could hear the murmuring of many people coming from the door ahead of her. In front of it Marcello stopped and smiled at her.

"Here it is. Ready?"

Without waiting for an answer he pushed open the door and walked in.

There were many tables sent up around the room. Elegantly decorated with sweeping table cloths and silver cutlery. Many people were mingling with each other.

Emiliee slowly walked in and let the delicious smell of the food flood into her nostrils. But she felt very strangely alone. She didn't really know anyone in the Opera House expect Marcello and didn't know where to go, who to talk to and how to act. She felt herself closely following him even though he was heading towards the kitchens.

Sensing her presence still behind him he turned towards her.

"I have to work in the kitchens," he began, motioning towards the doors ahead of him "but you don't" he said laughing "why don't you go and talk to Andre over there? He said he wanted to talk you you earlier."

Emiliee nodded and smiled at him before quietly thanking him and making her way over to Andre. He was talking quietly to a young boy. He looked a couple years older then she, with short blond hair and bright blue eyes. Emiliee felt her heart accelerate as he turned and smiled at her. He looked so…_perfect. _She felt her hands clam up as she reached him. Both Andre and the boy stood watching her expectantly.

Emiliee realized that she didn't have anything interesting to say.

"Erm…Hello." She said and then smiled towards them both. Hoping they would keep the conversations going.

Andre didn't seem to notice her awkwardness because he smiled down at her and continued speaking as if she had just announced a cure for a deadly disease.

"Hello Miss. Chagny," he said "I haven't seen you all day. Our meeting was so brief. I suppose you were making you way around, finding your bearings huh?" he said smiling down at her.

Emiliee felt her face flush. It everyone she talked to was going to mention her little disappearance then she didn't want to talk to anyone.

"This is my son, Francois." Andre said motioning down to the blond boy.

"Mademoiselle…" he said softly in the same formal tone Emiliee knew all too well.

He smiled at her and grabbed her hand. Emiliee noticed how soft and cool his hands were. What was wrong with her? His gaze didn't falter as he kissed her hand softly. In that moment, Emiliee felt like she **was **going to faint.

Before she could say another word Marcello walked out from the kitchen doors and in front of the hall. He cleared his throat and scanned around the room. Obviously trying to get everyone's attention. He caught Emiliee's eye and smiled. In spite of herself she smiled back. She seemed so close to him now. He was the only person she could trust at the Opera House anyway. Oh what an eventful day it had been. Emiliee glanced sideways and suddenly became aware of Francois inquisitive look.

"Madame's and Messieurs, dinner is served." He said before walking back into the kitchen.

Emiliee looked towards Andre to see where she should sit. But he had forgotten she was with him and had disappeared to the side of his fellow manager Firmin. She jumped when she felt Francois hand upon her arm.

"Come over here and sit with me." He said. His voice was calm but yet demanding.

_It would be rude not to _thought Emiliee before smiling and obliging.

She sat herself down at a small, round table near the front of the room. Francois, after pulling out her chair for her, sat on her right. But to her dismay an old, overweight man with a graying beard sat on her other side.

Emiliee turned to look at him and smiled expecting a smile in return. But it did not come. The man completely ignored her obvious polite gesture and turned to talk to the woman beside him.

A little taken aback Emiliee turned back to her plate. A few seconds passed in silence before Marcello came with their appetizers. He handed them out along the table. Smiling kindly at everyone he handed them to. But everyone ignored him; he was invisible, since he was a staff member. As he handed Emiliee her plate she returned his smile.

"Here you are mademoiselle." He said formally

"Thank you messier." She replied, echoing his formality

She smiled as he left and then turned to Francois. Francois only gave Marcello a small murmur of thanks before turning his attentions back to Emiliee.

"Friend?" he inquired softly

Emiliee nodded and picked up her fork. She realized that she should have chatted up Francois more then she had. But she was famished and she _did_ miss lunch.

But before she had time to get a forkful into her mouth the plump man beside her taped her on the shoulder.

"Excuse me Mademoiselle. Are you that daughter of Christine and Raoul de Chagny?" he asked leaning over to her.

Emiliee ran her fingers through her hair before replying.

"Yes, I am" she said simply hoping that the conversation would end before it began.

The man turned to the woman beside him and muttered something under his breath. Emiliee watched at the lady kept shooting interested glances in her direction. The young de Chagny began to feel very uncomfortable.

"Excuse me sir, but why did you ask?" she said as politely as she could. But she couldn't help keep the slight edge in her voice.

The man turned back to her and stared at her in wonder.

"It was just that….well….is it true?" he asked.

Emiliee looked at him curiously. How could she respond to that?

"Sorry, is what true?" she asked. Feeling very lost and foolish

The man drew closer to her and looked around him, as if to make sure that nobody was listening to him. When he spoke his voice was indeed in a whisper and Emiliee had to lean forward to understand what he was saying.

"You know…with the…" he trailed off and looked behind his shoulder "the…Opera Ghost" he said just above a whisper.

Emiliee stared at him perplexed. Opera Ghost? What the hell was he talking about? Her eyes widened as she added everything together. That man that kidnapped her, who knocked her out, who saved her life….he's the…_he's _the…

_But that's impossible. He's dead. Father told me so, father said that he was… _her mind was racing to comprehend what was going on.

_But whether he is dead or alive this man knows where I was. He's going to kill me, Oh god. He's going to kill me…_

"What do you know about the Opera Ghost?" she asked quietly.

"You know, with your mother…Christine." He said. Obviously trying to coax her out of an explanation.

Emiliee just stared at him. This man was making no sense to her at all. What had her mother have to do with the Opera Ghost? Surely he meant Meg…

"My…my mother?" she asked quietly

"Yeah. Well, I've only heard the rumors. About how he…you know kidnapped her or something of the sort…" the man continued talking but Emiliee didn't hear him.

She felt tears of confusion well up in her eyes.

_No, he's lying. He has to be. It was Meg…Meg was the one..._

Her mind was bustling, trying to make sense of what this man was saying to her. She wanted to leave, to run back to her parents. Did they lie to her? No. They wouldn't do that. They couldn't. She trusted them.

Emiliee's breath was shallow and shaky. What was going on? Was the man she saw earlier…did her mother? She relaxed a little to feel Francois whisper in her ear.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Come, let's get some air ok?"

Emiliee relaxed almost immediately and stood up slowly. Nodding to the other people she began to make her way to the door. Francois very closely behind her.

"Are you ok?" he asked, staring at her intently as they reached the door.

Emiliee didn't answer.


	8. Lost

**Authors Note: Here's Chapter 8. I was quite sad to see no reviews for my last chapter. Please review. It only takes two seconds. I see the hits on this story is high… Thanks for reading. Don't worry Christine and Erik will be reunited soon.**

The night was still and serene. A light breeze ruffled through the leaves of the shrubbery and trees outside the Opera Populaire. Emiliee walked silently outside, ignoring the fact that Francois was walking right behind her. Her eyes burned with tears of hurt, fury and confusion. Her mind kept replaying the scene that she had just been through. She wished desperately to talk to her mother or father. Or someone that would have some answers. The young de Chagny wasn't sure what to think. The man must have been lying…or joking. Yes, he had been joking.

Emiliee fed herself this answer over and over in her mind. But his tone held no mockery as he had conversed with her. She heard the door to the Opera House close softly behind her and became aware that Francois was standing silently behind her, watching her every move. Emiliee took a deep breath before turning around and smiling delicately at him. There was one thing that she knew for sure and that was that she had to maintain the air that she was pulled together around him.

She had been planning to remark about the beauty of the night which was around them. Or comment on the latest political affairs. Her backup plan was going to be to ask about the Opera. But all these preparations were deemed useless when she looked into his eyes.

His eyes held so much pity, so much compassion. Usually she would have been offended that someone would think she needed that kind of sympathy. But when she saw that look it changed her. Changed her ideals on how she should act. She couldn't help a small tear roll gently down her face and she held his gaze. It made her feel sorrier for herself.

Ashamed, Emiliee quickly looked away and wiped away the tear. Her gaze stayed on the rough ground in which she was standing. She didn't say a word, and neither did he. The air surrounding them was not of awkward nature. But almost of peace. Emiliee was deeply relived that he did not speak. For she feared speaking would ruin the imminent point when the peace, the dreaming would end. She wished to sustain it for as long as possible.

Emiliee raised her gaze finally and stared out over the rooftops of the other buildings.

"Thank you," she muttered softly "for what you did back there."

"It was my pleasure Mademoiselle de Changy." He said in the same soft tone.

Emiliee froze as she heard her name uttered from his lips. Was that the reason why he had saved her then? To get on the good side of a de Chagny! Someone high ranked in society? Emiliee turned back to him and nodded briskly.

"Well monsieur if you wouldn't mind. I feel quite exhausted. I would like to return to my room."

Emiliee walked vigorously to the front doors expecting Francois to move out of the way. But he didn't. Emiliee stopped in front of him and looked at him in the most professional and high class way that she could muster. Inside her mind was screaming. Why couldn't he just let her go? She had so much to think about, so much to straighten out.

_Please…_she thought desperately _please let me be. Let me go._

Francois touched her arm briefly before saying anything. In spite of herself, Emiliee felt her stomach flutter.

"Please don't go," he said "just…let's go for a little wander around outside."

Emiliee stared at him for a long while before saying anything. He sounded sincere. But did that really count for anything? She hardly knew this boy. He could be a creep, a bore, or a murderer for all she knew. And frankly, Emiliee had had enough of murderers. Already she had met one too many.

A pang of fear overtook her as she thought of the masked man. Here she was outside, relatively alone whilst a murderer had threatened her. She was so stupid.

"Alright." She said finally looking around her anxiously for some indication if someone was following her.

Either Francois didn't notice her tense nature or he merely ignored it because he said nothing.

"Sorry but…where did you plan to go?" Emiliee asked slowly.

Francois let out a small laugh as he looked at Emiliee again. She certainly did do her research before going anywhere.

"Why the Opera House gardens of course…" he said motioning towards an extravagant garden gate.

Emiliee nodded slowly muttering things under her breath like "yes" and "of course, how silly of me". Her words were lost to the wind for Francois couldn't hear her as they walked through the gates.

The sight in front of her was…amazing. Tall tree's overhung over the patches of flowers. But they weren't just patches of flowers. The flowers had such vibrant color but yet they were so delicate and vulnerable even. A few fountains littered the garden walls making the scene even more breathtaking. Emiliee could hardly imagine this being part of the Opera House garden. This was a spectacle in itself.

"Wow…" was all she could manage out.

Francois nodded slowly before leaning on a small park bench in the middle of the gardens.

"When they rebuilt the Opera House they also bought some of the land over here. My father and Firmin thought that they could extend the walls of the Opera Populaire to occupy all of the space but that became impossible. So they decided that a garden would be a nice addition to their building," Francois shrugged "they needed to fill up some space"

Emiliee stared around at all of the flowers in front of her. She couldn't name any of them. They seemed to be of some rare breed that she had never seen before. Without taking her eyes off them she spoke.

"When you said gardens I thought you meant a few flower pots or something." She said in awe.

Francois laughed lightly "Really? I would imagine that a member of the de Chagny family would have been better acquainted with gardens to this scale."

Emiliee let out a small breath she didn't wish to talk about her family name.

"Those flowers are beautiful," she said quickly. Obviously attempting to change the subject as quickly as possible "they are so vivacious looking. The colors are so beautiful and bright. But yet they look so delicate and soft."

Francois watched her, a strange look of almost adoration in his eyes. He expected that she wasn't just referring to the flower.

"I wasn't aware that Andre had a son. "She said conversationally

Francois smiled at her and ran his hands through his hair. "Neither did he until a couple months ago."

Emiliee smiled in spite of herself. Her eyebrows raised "Really?" she said

Francois nodded "Excuse me for being so frank, but he had a certain fling that turned out differently then he had hoped."

Emiliee looked at him in disbelief. "Oh my…That's…"

Francois smiled at her "I know. My mother got in trouble with my father when he found out. There having this big row now. So my mother, bless her, figured it would be a grand idea for me to come out here and meet Andre."

Emiliee nodded before a question roused within her and she could not suppress "But, pardon me for asking, but how did she know Andre was the real father. If she is married…"

Francois looked at her inquiring face and laughed to himself.

Emiliee stopped and began to blush madly. "I'm sorry; really, I don't know what possessed me to ask a personal question like that. Forgive me."

But to her surprise he shook his head. "No it's alright. You don't have to ask for forgiveness. I, actually find the circumstance quite amusing

Emiliee let out a small breath of relief.

"Well, let's just say my mother and father have never been…plentiful in that area"

Both Emiliee and Francois laughed at his comment.

Francois and Emiliee wandered aimlessly around the garden. The talked of many things, but mostly things about Francois. Emiliee made sure that she constantly asked him questions about himself. Every once and awhile Francois would casually ask her about her family but Emiliee quickly veered away from the subject. She had enough to worry about her family without making all her worries public to him. It would only make them worse and more real. After what seemed like hours Emiliee looked back towards the Opera House. She was famished and exhausted. She wanted more then anything to sleep away her problems.

"Listen, thank you for everything. But I am really very tired and I must get back to the Opera House"

Francois nodded before they both started heading towards the doors to the Opera. The carefree, relaxed atmosphere that had surrounded them both was quickly replaced by a very tense and awkward atmosphere. Emiliee only muttered two words of thanks before entering the Opera House and leaving Francois behind her.

She turned the doorknob to her room slowly before walking in. The room was very dark and Emiliee didn't hesitate to get herself in-between the covers as she closed the door behind her. She didn't even bother to change into her night clothes.

She was almost settled in a deep sleep when a terrifying voice filled her mind.

"I don't trust this boy."

* * *

"Madame..? Madame de Chagny?"

A low voice broke Christine's despair. She looked up at the man who stood in front of her. He was one of the servants from their summer home.

"Sorry to disturb you but I just received word. Madame your housekeeper, Henrietta, she is dead."

Christine's eyes widened at the news.

"How?"

"Murdered Madame. Found dead in your bedroom."

Christine looked down at her feet in disbelief. It was too horrible to think about. Too horrible to comprehend.

Only now that she studied the man in front of her did she see the fear and urgency marked along the crease lines in his face.

"Raoul is gone."

"Gone where?"

The servant was silent and handed her a note. With trembling hands Christine opened it and tears began to flow freely as she read the words.

_I have your husband. _


	9. Guide and Guardian

**Author's Note : Thank you so much to all of the reviews. I love them! Here's chapter 9! I hope you enjoy it! Please review and tell me what you think!**

The hours blurred together. One rush of frantic and fearful running and screaming. Christine couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She was trapped in her own house, life and very body. She was suffocating. Every place she checked she held onto a lingering hope that she may find Raoul standing there smiling down at her. So she could hold him and make him promise that he would never leave her. But that hope was rapidly fading. Every place she checked she found nothing and everytime she found nothing her heart broke even more painfully then the previous time. She no longer had a soul. Her body felt numb.

Tears ran in a steady flow down her cheeks. She cried for Raoul. She cried in fear, in loss but mostly in hatred. Helplessness flooded her body and she raced around her house. Around the mansion that had once brought her such happiness. Was it really only 2 days earlier that she had felt that Elysian peace?

She could see Raoul, he was there in front of her. But she was too weak. She couldn't reach out and grab him. He was slowly slipping away.

Christine collapsed in a heap on the front lawn. Her tears were replaced with violent sobs. Her body trembled over the loss that she felt. Raoul, her dear friend, her _husband_. She could hardly believe what was happening to her.

But it was all too real. She knew the reality of it all. It was no joke and some monster, some madman had her husband and she knew the painful fact that she may never lay eyes on him again.

Another heavy sob lurched through her body before her mind began to focus. Her eyes widened at the thought of Emiliee back at the Opera House unaware of her father's disappearance. Christine's helplessness and confusion turned into hardheaded determination. She had to get to her daughter. The only family she had left.

* * *

Emiliee felt her heart leap to her throat as she heard it. It was him and she knew it. How could she have been so stupid? He was here and he knew about….about what? Emiliee had been so sure not to mention the demon. She had made sure to honor her word, and save her life in the process. Had she said something she shouldn't have?

But Emiliee knew that he was angry and that she would die.

Her heart ceased to beat as his words were uttered. Her eyes scanned the room frantically for some sign of the man. But she saw no one.

"I DON'T TRUST HIM!" this time it yelled, echoing off the walls of her room.

Emiliee let out a silent prayer that someone outside would hear and come in. Find the man and rid her of this unspeakable terror that she felt.

"DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU MIGHT HAVE LET SLIP IN YOUR LITTLE 'OUTING'?"

Emiliee's body trembled at the menace and mockery in his voice. Tears ran down her face as she tried to accept her imminent fate. Emiliee could imagine his eyes. His terrifying yet intriguing eyes flashing angrily in front of her. But she couldn't see them. Actually there was no sign that a man was in her room.

"I could kill you…" he said eerily

It was in that moment that Emiliee thought she had finally gone to the deep end. The voice wasn't coming from the room. The voice was coming from inside her head…inside her mind. That man was inside her mind. No one would hear him. No one was coming to save her.

No one.

Emiliee stood up quickly and closed her eyes tight. She was trying to banish him away from the thing that was supposed to belong to her and only her.

Too terrified to reply she opened her eyes once more. Before she could formulate a proper plan she turned towards her door. And ran.

She ran like she had never run before. The door swung open loudly and she sprinted away from her room. Hopefully away from him. She ran clumsily, bumping into walls and doors as she went. The corridors were empty. All of the inhabitants of the Opera Populaire were sleeping peacefully in their beds. They had no idea of the girl running through the corridors so scared that she could Barely keep her body from just collapsing in a pile. Emiliee wanted her mother. How desperately she wanted her to hug her tight and tell her everything would be ok.

Tears still ran steadily down her face as she ran. A few times she glanced warily behind her. Terridyed of what she might find. She was foolish enough to belive that the man would not follow her. But she clung to that small flicker of safety and hope as if it were the last fact on earth. To her, it was.

Emiliee turned a corner sharply and ran right into a man who was wandering the corridors too. Emiliee looked up fearfully to see Francois looking down on her with concern. Her placed his hand upon Emiliee's tear stained face and attempted to calm her ragged breathing.

"Emiliee…what…shhhh..it's ok…" he muttered reassurinlgly .

Emiliee threw her self upon him with such force that Francois stumbled back a couple of steps. She clung to him tightly and closed her eyes as he held her. The fact that he was with her then was so comforting. Francois held her tenderly around her waist. He wasn't sure what had happened but all he wanted to do was make sure she was ok. He couldn't imagine what could have happened to cause her to go into such hysterics.

Emiliee hasilty broke the embrace and stared into his eyes. Francois was amazed with the amount of fear that resided there.

"Francois, I'm not safe. _You're_ not safe. Oh god, you're not safe." She said to herself.

Emiliee realized that if she should fear for anyone it was for Francois. How the man had spoken about him with such hatred.

Francois stared at her intently "Emiliee what are you talking about?"

Emiliee gazed around the corridor quickily for any sign that the man was behind her.

"Listen to me," she said hastily "we aren't safe here. We have to leave." Emiliee caught sight of a winding staircase which lead up to the rooftop.

Really the attempt was useless. But she would do anything to get as far away from the masked man as possible.

_I could kill you _

The statement replayed itself a million times in her head. She didn't want to die. She had only just began to live. She had never been kissed, she had never gone for a long stroll along the streets of Paris unaccomapined, she had never told her parents how much she loved them.

Emiliee turned towards the staircase and began running up them as fast as her trembling legs would allow. They still throbbed with the pain from falling through the floor into…she couldn't remember where. But the memory haunted her. It was mocking her, reminding her that it was her foolishness, her incompetence that put her in so much danger. That put Francois in so much danger. If hadn't been so damn curious she would have never been taken by that monster. She would never have found herself in this life or death situation.

Francois watched as she started to run. Her running looked strained. She was sore and tired but her terror would not let her stop. Hastily he took off after her. Dread filling his soul. Why was he in so much danger? He had done nothing.

As she reached the roof the cool night air flooded her. She shivered but did not comment on the cold climate that she was exposing them both too.

Finally she stopped, looking over the roofs of Paris. Her breathing still ragged she turned slowly to Francois. He approached her slowly only to stop right in front of her. Hesitantly he raised a hand and gently brushed the hair from her face.

"What happened to you?" he asked softly studying her carefully.

A tear ran down Emiliee's face. She couldn't look him in the eye.

"I just…I….There was this man…" she started warily.

Emiliee could hardly believe what she was saying. Was she actually going to tell him about the masked man. The murderer? She couldn't. She was sealing their deaths. But for some unknown reason when he watched her for her answer she couldn't lie.

Francois face turned stony and his eyes lit with hatred. He cursed swiftly under his breath.

"Was it that poor kid Marcello?" he asked angrily

Emiliee said nothing as she stared at Francois. Realization hit her as she added everything together. He thought…He thought that she had been..

"No…No of course not. Marcello wouldn't…No.." she stuttered out "I…I"

Emiliee knew she had a decision to make and she had to make it quickly.

"No…It was…someone else. He was a…an actor I suppose. I hadn't seen him before…"

Francois sighed and pulled her into. He held her tightly and protectively. Emiliee felt a lurch in the pit of her stomach. Never before had someone held her like Francois was holding her now. She felt safe.

"It's over now…" he whispered softly in her ear "did he…manage to.."

"No." Emiliee said cutting him off

"So nothing…you're not hurt?"

"I'm not hurt. Nothing happened…I…I ran before he could…"

"Thank god." He said laughing lightly.

Emiliee felt herself smile. She forgot about the masked man. She forgot about all of the

unresolved issues that plagued her.

Francois pulled back leaving a small space in between the two of them. They didn't speak to one another. Silently Francois cupped her face in his hands and pulled her into him.

Her lips met his, sending a warm sensation throughout her body. His lips were so soft, so reassuring. He buried his hands in her hair as she timidly wrapped her hand around his neck.As the kiss ended Emiliee could hardly believe what had happened. She longed to kiss him again. She longed to feel his lips upon her own.

But in the back of her mind she knew. That sooner or later that man was going to come back and haunt her again. She only hoped that no harm would come to her, or anyone else that she loved.


	10. Confrontation

Emiliee didn't want to leave the roof. The roof had quickly become her haven. Safe and far away from any harm, and with Francois. Emiliee wasn't sure why she felt so content with him. Maybe it was because she needed comfort. Just someone to tell her that everything was going to be ok. Or maybe…maybe it was more then that.

Emiliee didn't want to go back into the Opera House. But Francois insisted that they get inside before she froze to death. Emiliee couldn't figure out a way to explain her fears without giving away anything. She didn't want him to know…at least not yet. She needed answers, but to get answers she needed…life. Hopefully the masked man had a little good in him.

She had managed to convince Francois that the "actor" had meant her no harm, that nothing happened to her and that he took off never to return again. Really it was quite far-fetched. But then so was a masked man living behind a mirror.

Finally he persuaded her to return inside. Softly clutching her hand he started down the stairs. Emiliee became very anxious as she left the roof.

_What am I doing? _She asked herself furiously _if I go back there he'll kill me…_

But, despite her furious attempts to turn around, she still ventured on. Her grip tightening around Francois hand as they reached closer to her dressing room. She couldn't tell him that she couldn't go back in there because the masked demon would get angry and kill her. But she also couldn't go in there because the masked demon would be angry and kill her anyway.

Emiliee approached the doorway slowly. It was closed, even though Emiliee knew that when she had run it had been left open. Emiliee tried not to think about what was waiting for her on the other side of that door.

Francois sensed her uneasiness.

"Emiliee, don't worry. Don't be frightened. It's ok" he said smiling at her softly. Francois leaned towards her gently and hesitated at first before brushed his lips with hers.

Emiliee felt herself relax slightly. She took a deep breath and reached out to grab the doorknob. Slowly the door creaked open.

Her eyes were flooded in darkness. All she could distinctly make out was the mirror, her scared reflection glowing inside of it.

"Emiliee, " Francois voice came from behind her "I must return to my sleeping quarters. I…"

"No!" Emiliee exclaimed.

Francois looked at her, evidently surprised by her outburst. Emiliee collected her composure.

"No," she said more softly "please, don't leave."

Emiliee didn't care how presumptuous or forward she sounded. She just didn't want to be left alone in the dark while the demon was still around. She didn't want to have to fight off her fears herself. She didn't have the strength for that.

Francois looked at her curiously. He wasn't exactly sure what to think. Surely she didn't actually mean….No. That was ridiculous. She was just nervous to be alone, that's all.

Slowly he walked into her dressing room and Emiliee closed the door slowly behind them. The young de Chagny didn't realize how awkward the situation was. She was too terrified to think about something like that.

The room plunged into an atmosphere of eerie silence. Only the sound of their breathing was audible. Emiliee felt a growing sense of dread overwhelm her as her mind reeled to figure out a way to escape from the man's clutches.

Emiliee walked over to a candle on the bedside table. Only after reluctantly letting go of Francois hand. She bent over and carefully lit it. Immediately the walls began to dance in firelight. Emiliee felt her relax a little as she gazed around the room. She saw no man at all and she heard no voices in her head. Maybe she just imagined everything.

She turned to face Francois who hadn't moved from his spot.

"I have to go back to my…" he started motioning towards the door.

Emiliee watched him carefully before nodding slowly. As much as she wanted him to stay with her and guard her from whomever that man was. But she also knew that, because she couldn't explain herself fully, it was odd to make him stay.

"Right. Yes, You should…you should go…" she said flustered, running her fingers through her hair.

Francois nodded and then walked over to the door. He only paused a second to wish her goodnight before closing it between the two of them.

Emiliee stood in the darkness before walking nervously back to her bed. One thing was painfully clear, she wouldn't be getting ANY sleep that night.

* * *

Erik stood cloaked in the shadows. The Punjab lasso was clutched in his hand, poised and ready to kill. He hadn't murdered anyone in quite some time but he doubted that he could have lost his skill at using the weapon. All he knew was that he wanted to kill that boy. That insolent boy whom was so untrustworthy.

Truth was Erik wanted to end Francois's life, not because he was untrustworthy but because he had caused him to relive his pain. Emiliee had gone off with that Francois to the roof. Emiliee wanted protection…from him. She wanted protection from "The Phantom of the Opera"…just like Christine had.

Erik felt his heart clench at the thought of Christine.

His thoughts were interrupted when the dressing room door opened and Francois walked silently out. Erik watched as he walked down the corridors. He was approaching him. Erik's grip tightened around the lasso. A few seconds and a swift crack of his neck and that boy would be no longer. But before he had time to throw the lasso around his neck a voice cried out from behind which caused Erik to retreat back into his shadowy hideout.

"Just thought you'd have a little fun?" said the voice mockingly.

Francois spun around to see who was talking to him. He smirked when he saw.

"Marcello right?" his voice had taken on a snobby air.

"No need to enquire as to your name, _Francois_." The voice, Marcello, sounded furious.

Erik smirked to himself. Maybe he wouldn't have to kill Francois after all. Marcello seemed pretty keen to do it for him.

"So do you always do that then?" asked Marcello putting his hands on his hips.

Francois raised his eyebrows "Do what exactly?"

"Follow young girls into their dressing rooms…the same _day_ you met them?"

Francois cocked an eyebrow at the remark.

"Oh, I understand what this is about." He said trailing off.

Marcello knew he was toying with him and he desperately wished he wouldn't have to ask the question Francois wanted him to.

"What?" he finally asked a little dejected

"She _asked_me to accompany her" he said, a little glint in his eye

"That's ludicrous! I'm not stupid Francois, how thick to you think I am?" Marcello asked his voice rising dangerously

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" asked Francois mockingly

Marcello glowered at him. The hatred he felt at that moment was the most he had ever felt in his entire life.

"Besides," Francois said laughing lightly to himself

"What are you talking about?" Marcello asked. He looked ready to punch Francois in the face

"C'mon now Marc," he said, emphasizing his nickname thick with mockery "I know you wish _you_ were the one holding her"

Marcello looked at him in shock.

"WHAT!" he exclaimed

Francois smiled slyly "Just so you know, I kissed her tonight and boy was it good…"

Marcello shook his head slowly his body visibly shaking with anger "You conceited bastard" he muttered under his breath.

"Want to say that again? You wouldn't want the de Chagny to hear such a poor servant…"

But before Francois could finish his sentence Marcello's fist smashed into his face with such force that he stumbled backwards clutching his nose.

"Alright…Alright…Alright!" said Francois trying to steady himself from the blow "Listen, Emiliee is a very fine girl I would never do anything to hurt her."

"You expect me to believe that?" asked Marcello. His confidence slowly growing.

Francois shook his head and tried to wipe away some of the blood from his nose. He highly suspected it to be badly broken.

"I would never do anything that would…" he started

"Right, like going into her dressing room in the dead of night?" Marcello asked

"What were you doing out by her dressing room so late then?" Francois asked.

"I was cleaning." He said shortly

"Right," said Francois smirking again "servants work..."

"Well I least I was taught some courtesy and respect," Marcello spat "Do you want a black eye to match your nose, Francois?"

"Hey, settle down. I don't want to draw attention to this. Please try and keep your voice down…" asked Francois hastily

"What? So it doesn't ruin your non-existent reputation?"

"You know what? I'm going to sleep. Goodnight _Marcello_" said Francois turning around and walking in the other direction.

Marcello said nothing as he watched him go. His face set in a stony expression.

Finally he turned on his heel and stormed off in the other direction.

Erik still stood in the shadows. That boy had wrecked his chance to kill Francois. But through their little conversation Erik had lost his desire to strangle him. Maybe tomorrow he would get around to it.

**Authors Note: Here's Chapter 10! Yay! Remember to review! There WILL be a lot more of Erik, Christine and Raoul stuff and E/C loveliness. Almost, almost. Enjoy and Review!**


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